


foundation

by orphan_account



Series: gravity i never learned [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:50:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5721697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Alexander's smirking, something in his eyes that Aaron knows too well. They know each other too well, is the problem: they accidentally fell into each other's lives so many years ago and they're too closely tied to extricate themselves now. Or that's how Aaron likes to think about it: as if he has no choice in the matter, as if there's no chance that there's something about Alexander he doesn't want to walk away from even if he could.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	foundation

**Author's Note:**

> \- so burr and hamilton have Backstory, which i'm going to write about at some point, but basically: they met when they were seventeen at columbia. burr was a student and hamilton was in nyc on leave between basic and his first deployment, and he was sort of looking around the school because it's an ivy and he already had plans about what he was going to do after he got out of the army. they talked/argued/ended up hooking up. because they were (are) both dumb kids with a shitload of issues around sex and intimacy they ended up starting this whole pseudo relationship made up of casual sex and very non-casual fighting that lasted like a month. maybe two. then they didn't see each other again until hamilton was going to columbia and burr was going to columbia law and it should've been super awkward and it was but they just kept running into each other and became sort-of friends. now they work at the same law firm, hamilton as a summer intern and burr as a junior associate.  
> \- that was probably more info than you needed. man, why don't i just write this series in order and save everyone (including myself!) a massive headache.

Aaron's day is already going badly when he sees Alexander Hamilton making his way determinedly toward his office: he thinks briefly of faking illness, or just obstinately ignoring Hamilton altogether, but instead only gulps the cold remains of his coffee in some effort to fortify himself. God knows what he wants, but Aaron guesses he won't like it. Hamilton's only an intern and already he's getting noticed, the partners putting him on cases that Aaron should be getting, that no intern, whether or not he's Alexander goddamn Hamilton, should be allowed on. It rankles Aaron, but he won't show it, won't let Hamilton see that Aaron cares at all.

"Hey," Hamilton says, ducking into Aaron's office. "You got—do you have the Peterson briefs?"

Aaron notes the stutter-step in his speech, trying to talk like the rest of the Ivy League grads in the firm. An ugly part of him wants to point out that it's never going to work, not if he can't shake his accent, which is still noticeable, if not as thick as it was that first day they met on the steps of the Columbia law library.

"Burr?" he asks impatiently, as if it's been minutes instead of microseconds that he hasn't replied. "Peterson briefs?"

"I have them," Burr says, "but I need them. I'm the one actually working this case," he reminds Hamilton, only a little snide.

"So am I," Hamilton says defensively.

"I'm second chair," Burr points out, "you're a glorified paralegal."

Hamilton clenches his jaw. "Let me use them when you go home," he says. "I know you'll be outta here at six o'clock, sharp."

Aaron can feel his mouth tighten into a thin line. _You don't work hard enough_ , Hamilton might as well be saying; you don't want it enough. Like a few hookups and a few more conversations means Hamilton knows anything about him.

"I'm staying late tonight," Aaron says. "Maybe tomorrow."

"I need them today."

Aaron sighs pointedly. "Fine," he says, cutting his losses: he knows Hamilton will keep arguing on principle, past the bounds of reason. "But they stay in here. I don't want to chase you across the entire office if I need them."

"Fine." 

Aaron points out the boxes, and Hamilton sits at the table in Aaron's office and starts reading.

Only a few minutes into this arrangement, Aaron realizes he may have miscalculated; his office, while private, is small. It barely has room for his desk, bookcase, table and couch; with another person in it it feels even smaller. Determined not to let it get to him, Aaron buries himself in his work, deciding not to think about Hamilton at all.

At around six Aaron's more than ready to go home, eat dinner with his wife and tuck his daughter into her crib, but he knows Hamilton will never let him live it down if he doesn't stay late now. So he sighs, texts Theo to tell her he'll be late, and decides that if he's confining himself to this office for the next few hours, the least he can do is order pizza.

He turns to Hamilton, who's furiously scribbling notes in a legal pad that he must've taken from Aaron. "Hamilton," Aaron says, and then again, when Hamilton doesn't reply: " _Hamilton_."

Finally he reaches over, tapping Hamilton on the shoulder. He looks up with a start, whipping around and snapping, "What?"

"I'm getting pizza," Aaron says, faintly amused despite himself. "What do you want?"

"Nothin," Hamilton says. "'m fine."

Aaron rolls his eyes. "I'm getting you cheese."

Hamilton looks skeptical. "Of course you get plain cheese. At least get olives on it or somethin."

"I'll get olives if you promise to eat some of it."

"Get at least one other ingredient and you're on." Alexander's smirking, something in his eyes that Aaron knows too well. They know each other too well, is the problem: they accidentally fell into each other's lives so many years ago and they're too closely tied to extricate themselves now. Or that's how Aaron likes to think about it: as if he has no choice in the matter, as if there's no chance that there's something about Alexander he doesn't want to walk away from even if he could.

Aaron ends up ordering an olive and mushroom pizza, and they go back to work in silence for the thirty minutes it takes to arrive. When it does Aaron sets it out and pulls two beers from the mini-fridge under his desk.

"I can't believe you got beer in your mini-fridge," Alexander says. He considers for a moment. "I can't believe you got a mini-fridge."

Aaron just smirks a little. "Perks of being a junior associate."

"Can't wait," Alexander says, a little too earnestly.

They start in on the pizza and beer, Alex hunching over the briefs and his legal pad again. There's only one cold slice left—neither of them will eat it, one of their passive-aggressive games Aaron recognizes but can't seem to rise above—and the office has gone completely dark and quiet except for the small bright oasis of Aaron's office, when Alex finally looks up from where he was bent about an inch above the paper. He rubs his eyes, and Aaron says, "You need glasses."

Alexander whips his head around, glaring at Aaron. "No I don't," he says, like the very idea of him needing any kind of help, even from an eighth-inch of glass, is completely out of the question. 

"Fine," Aaron says, but he's tired and irritated and wants to pick a fight, so he says: "Is your wife all right with you working this late?"

"Is yours?" Alex shoots back.

"I'm usually home earlier than this," Aaron says calmly, "as you pointed out."

Alex's mouth tightens, but Aaron knows him well enough to know he'll answer. "She's fine with it," he says. 

"You just had a kid, didn't you?" Aaron says, knowing the answer. Alexander's been showing off pictures incessantly since he was born.

"Yeah," Alex says, and something in his face softens, the dark circles and premature worry lines smoothed over by an almost palpable joy. "He's two months tomorrow," he volunteers almost despite himself. 

Aaron almost rolls his eyes, but restrains himself. He gets it, loathe as he is to admit it, sees his own unfathomable love for his daughter reflected in the expression on Alexander's face. _How did we end up here_ , he thinks suddenly, unexpectedly.

He thinks about it before saying, "Three months next Friday."

Alex looks over at him. "Theo, right? Same as your wife?" Aaron nods. Alex smiles crookedly. "Aaron if it was a boy?"

Aaron just rolls his eyes. "Funny."

"I try." He's looking at Aaron with the kind of intensity that Aaron's always found unsettling, and even before Alex opens his mouth he knows he's not going to like what comes out. "You wouldn'ta named your kid after yourself."

"Really?" Aaron says blandly, hoping in vain that this conversation will die a quick death.

"Nope," Alex says, almost smug, like he knows something Aaron doesn't. Aaron's reminded forcibly that he doesn't actually like Alexander all that much. "You know how shitty it is, tryina live up to that."

"Psychoanalysis now?" Aaron says, trying not to clench his jaw. It's disconcerting, he thinks, that anyone knows that much about him: even more disconcerting that it's Alex, who most people, including himself, are convinced he hates. It would be a lot easier, he thinks, if he could feel as uncomplicated an emotion toward Alexander as hate. "Here I thought you were too busy to pay attention to anyone but yourself."

Alexander's jaw clenches, never one to hold back his reactions. He keeps his same smug tone, though, when he says, "So I was right."

"Whatever makes you feel better."

"Hey," Alexander says, tipping his mostly-empty bottle toward Aaron in emphasis. "I don't got a dad to look up to, so, lucky you."

"At least you have a dad. So," Aaron says cuttingly, "lucky you."

"In a manner of speaking," Alex concedes. After a moment, he holds up his beer, a strangely open look on his face as he says, "Here's to bein better dads."

Aaron considers for a moment, but then reaches across the space between them, clinking their bottles together. He doesn't manage to say anything, but he nods a little to Alex, one of their rare moments of understanding. They both drain their bottles, and then they turn away, back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr over at [schuylering](http://schuylering.tumblr.com/)


End file.
